


It's okay

by Inspieos



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel
Genre: Blow Job, Coulson's Cakewalk, Coulson's parents, F/M, Sex, Summer, Vacation, two weeks vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 18:11:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2279667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inspieos/pseuds/Inspieos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye finds it a little suspicious when Coulsons abruptly tells them to take two weeks off. Then, before leaving, she doesn't see him all day as he's locked up in his office. This makes Skye determined to figure out what's going on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's okay

**Author's Note:**

> This story is quite the roller coaster, I apologise in advance. It’s been a while since I wrote anything NFSW-related, so I was a little rusty and awkward. And you know, I figured I don’t do one-shots because I’m too perfectionistic, so there’s that…hope you enjoy my smutty little goodness nonetheless! 
> 
> ps. also...some things might not make sense right away. If you're a little puzzled as to why Coulson reacts the way he does, I’d advise you to take a closer look at Coulson’s Marvel Wiki page (but you can always ask me as well)!

“What?!”, three youngsters exclaim in unison. Looks of astonishment, confusion, and eventual delight (well, at least one is delighted by the news) cross their faces. One of them remains absolute silent, though. He simply nods in agreement instead. 

“That’s an order”

One of the youngsters flusters a bright pink, mouth opening and closing before stammering the following words; “Y-You can’t honestly expect me to… what am I going to do for two weeks?“. 

Coulson directs his gaze towards her, making eye-contact with the now seemingly small protestor, eyes piercing her skin as he warns her sternly, “Jemma”.

She looks around, attempting to see eye to eye here with her fellow teammates by asking non-verbally for assistance but receives none, “But sir-“

“Jemma”

“Yes, sir”, she says, lowering her head. It’s a sign that she’s given in, giving in to his order, obeying him. His piercing stare softens at her submission. For a couple of seconds, there’s slight pity visible in his eyes. It’s not that he loves to force this upon her, or on any of them, it’s quite on the contrary, but this is what’s needed right now. 

He directs his full attention to the four before him, “We’re all getting a little R&R. Things have been hectic lately, so it’s a much deserved rest after the last couple of months” With that, Coulson turns round and exits the room without as much as another word or glimpse. He practically jogs his way up the spiral staircase. 

Watching him, Skye folds her arms before her chest before looking at the others beside her. Jemma still has her head directed at the ground, even though she has now buried her face into her hands, and Fitz, well, he’s too preoccupied with reassuring Jemma that all will be fine by placing a calming, relaxing hand on her shoulder. Trip starts to assist him by pulling Jemma into a hug, embracing her. Of course, now Fitz watches the two with jealousy while placing his hands onto his hips. Skye once more looks at the now empty staircase and chews onto her lower lip. 

——-

Just as she’s finished packing her clothes, May passes by her bunk. 

“Hey!”, Skye shouts after her, poking her head out. She hasn’t seen her S.O. all day. In fact, Skye’s been practically all alone all day long, ever since Coulson made the sudden announcement this morning. Fitz had been with Jemma, helping her pack (probably in the hopes of keeping Trip at bay. And they’re probably picking out a location for their holiday where they can still do a little bit of science, because science.. yay). May stops dead in her tracks in response. For a moment, which only occurs in a matter of a few seconds, she does nothing besides just standing there. It looks as though she’s playing with a thought in her mind, the thought whether or not she should respond to her trainee. She’s dressed in all black and a bag hangs from her shoulder. She’s about ready to leave. Skye figures it must be why she seems reluctant to answer her. She realises she knows nothing of her S.O. Maybe she has someone waiting for her out there? A husband? Wife? Lover? Family? She knows nothing about her personal life. Maybe that’s why she’s in such a hurry? May turns around nonetheless, putting Skye’s mind back on track. Her voice is a little impatient, even though she tries to hide her annoyance from the younger agent, “Yes, Skye?”. 

Does this mean it’s not directed at her? 

Skye quickly gets out of her bunk, “Is there any reason why we’re having two weeks off?”

“No. And if I were you, I would stop assuming there’s an underlying reason. It’s a vacation. That’s it. You’re supposed to enjoy it”, May says, looking at her with a blank expression but with a certain strictness in her voice that seems out of place, even for her S.O. When May talks to her with that tone of voice, she’s usually done something incredibly stupid. She usually deserves it. 

“Okay… “, she approaches May, standing a foot away with eyebrows knitted lightly as though to say she’s still apprehensive of the whole thing. Maybe it’s just her gut, maybe it’s just a funny feeling, but it’s real and it’s currently telling her something seems off. 

“It just seems a little odd, you know? I mean, we’ve been doing this for how long now? A little less than a year? We haven’t had a single break since then and all of the sudden we do? I mean, Coulson gave us a 24 hours’ notice. That’s it. Then he left in a hurry and I haven’t seen him since. Don’t you think that’s a little suspicious?“

“No. We are all in a desperate need of a break, Coulson included”, May invades her personal space, taking a step or so forward until their faces are a few inches apart. With utmost sincerity she then says, “Enjoy it. You’ll never know when we get another one”. A ghost of a smile teases her features. And even though she only shows it for a split second, it eases Skye’s inner conflicts. She relaxes, silently nodding while May turns on her heel. 

“Enjoy your time off!”, Skye calls after her, which earns her an honest smile and an open, flatly-raised hand, as though she means to wave goodbye to her trainee. Skye smiles back at the gesture before turning around. Her eyes catch the spiral stairs again and she wonders what’s on his mind. Will he take a vacation too? Take some time to catch his breath? And for some reason she can’t explain, the mischievous thought of going up there and asking him about it occupies her mind. The least she can do is tell him she’s all packed and ready to go, right? But he might be busy.. 

Maybe she shouldn’t…

Should she? 

Maybe just… 

Oh, what the hell, let’s do this. 

She retrieves her packed bag from her bunk and directs her gaze towards the staircase before peeking around to see if the others are still on the bus. There are two voices in the distance, both thick and foreign in accent. They’re inaudible, but she can tell right away who they belong to: Fitz and Jemma. Really, who else could it be? 

She climbs the stairs and hesitantly knocks on the door before opening it. Coulson has his elbow propped on his desk and the utmost bored yet pained expression on his face. He looks up, lifting his head from his hand. Fingers disappear from the bridge of his nose. The look fades away almost immediately. “Skye..”, he says, half surprised, half relieved. He pauses to firm his voice to sound more professional, to create some sort of distance, “I thought you were already gone?”. 

“Nope. I’m about to leave, though.. thought I come in and,” she pauses, fighting back the urge to roll her eyes at her own silliness, which he picks up immediately, “say goodbye..?”. She isn’t even sure why she went, but her awkward weirdness will surely convince him otherwise. Nonetheless, he smiles sweetly at her discomfort. He straightens himself before asking; “Where will you go?”.

“Not sure yet”, she drops the bag on the floor and sits down in front of him, “I’ll figure it out. Probably visit some places. What about you?”

He smiles, but this time it lacks the usual warmth, the sweetness that only belongs to him. He breaks the eye-contact to focus his attention back to his desk and picks up a seemingly random pen. He remains silent for a little while but speaks softly, eyes sad, “Boston”. 

“Oh”, Skye replies, primarily responding to his body language as she watches Coulson fidget with his fountain pen. He seems obsessed with the damn thing. 

“Any plans?”

He frowns and pouts his Coulson-esque pout, “Visit some family members”. 

“Cool! What’s it like? Boston, I mean?”

Probably poking a hole through his trail of thought, Coulson abruptly lifts his head up, which causes her to look up as well. Blue narrow eyes stare curiously into her kind brown pools, as if he’s trying to catch her lie right on the spot, right in his face, while he determines whether or not she’s being honest with him, “You’ve never been there?”. She shakes her head sincerely and compliments her features with a brave smile, “No”. 

“It’s… lovely”, he smiles back. The same phoney, pretended one as before. Who’s he trying to fool here? It’s certainly not her.

“When will you be going?”

“Tonight,” he’s probably picked up on the subconscious fidgeting as well (her occasional stare downwards to his hands might’ve sent him a warning signal) as he hastily puts the pen back onto its original place, breaks contact, and starts rummaging through the papers on his desk, “and I still need to do a lot of work before then, so, if you don’t mind..?” 

Is he really asking her to leave? Like this? So suddenly?Without looking at her? Without being the polite agent, no.. director, and wishing her a good holiday at least? Without.. anything? Without being… Coulson? Her Coulson? 

“Oh… okay”, she blinks a couple of times, “Sure”. She gets up on her feet without taking her eyes off of him. “Thanks”, he replies, his gaze still lowered and directed at his directorial duties. Something is definitely going on, she can feel it and this conversation has only confirmed her suspicions. The feeling in her gut has grown. Immensely. This isn’t like the Phil Coulson she’s gotten to know over the last couple of months. Frowning, she grabs her bag and puts it over her shoulder. She twirls around to regard him again, “Coulson..”

Is he okay? Should she ask him about it? Or….?

He looks up as if the previous conversation never occurred, with posture set back into professional mode, “Yes, Skye?”. 

“Never mind….”, he frowns and is about to object, but she quickly adds, “Have a nice break”. She plays her worry off with a supposedly-carefree smile, a fake one at that, but she’s better at masking her emotions than Coulson is, so he probably won’t give it a second thought. He seems preoccupied with something else as well. 

“You too”, a gentle smirk tugs at the corners of his lips.

“Thanks”

Her mind is racing, playing all the possible scenarios in her head while she slowly descends down the stairs. Has an alien taken control of his body? While he seems more introvert than usual, more withdraw and in himself, it seems doubtful. Is he having a midlife crisis? Probably not. She’d had to keep an eye on him to be sure. Same goes for the possible alien possession. What if he’s going to be reunited with his wife? Children? Vicious, greedy ex-wife? Oh yuck. But really, what’s in Boston that makes him.. like this? First the weird, sudden announcement of a break, where he was already suspicious, but now this? There’s no other way but to find out what’s going on. For the sake of the team. For Coulson’s sake. She’s totally not being curious or selfish here. Absolutely not. She’s doing it for his wellbeing. Her intrusion has nothing to do with self-centred curiosity. 

“Skye!”, all of the sudden she notices Fitz and Jemma standing in the lounge with bags and suitcases surrounding them. They’re both waving their arms to catch her attention. Funny.. she didn’t see them standing there. 

“Oh, hey guys”

Fitz beams happily and even Jemma seems cheerful, despite her earlier reservations about taking a break from ‘sciencing’. “Are you ready to go?”, the Scot asks her. Skye bites onto her lower lip, “Yeah, about that… I think I’m going to pass. But thanks anyways”. 

“Whaatt?!”, both reply, one a bit more high-pitched than the other. And no, it wasn’t Jemma. 

“Yeah, I’m going to stay here”

“But why? I thought we-“

Skye cuts the Scot off and offers him a sympathetic shrug, “Coulson needs my help”. In a way, she tells herself, he does. He does need her help. He just doesn’t know it yet. 

“With what?”, Jemma questions her. 

She pouts lightly, going back and forth in her mind. How is she going to save herself out of this? What does Coulson usually say when she needs to mind her own business? Ah, yes…. the one thing she loves to hate. “I’m sorry, but it’s confidential. You know, super secret spy mission and all”. 

“Oh”, and with that, the issue is immediately dropped. She even gives them another sympathetic look to make it seem as real as possible. They don’t need to know about this - not yet, at least. The two don’t hide their disappointment but they seem to understand, being the diehard workaholics that they are. 

“Well, work is important..”

“Yes”, Jemma chimes in with a bright, supportive smile plastered on her face, “Good luck”. 

“Thanks. Have a great trip! You guys deserve it!”

She helps them get their things into the van, sends them off, and goes back to her bunk. Well, not before going to the kitchen and retrieving her cool ass Cookie Monster mug with actual room to put cookies in. After getting herself a mug full with coffee and chocolate chip cookies, she makes herself comfortable on the bed, she grabs her laptop and begins searching for anything that might explain her boss’ (and friend’s) recent weird behaviour. 

———

He tiredly rubs into his eyes before glancing at his watch. 1:25 am. God. He’s been working all day and he’s fairly certain he can’t feel his legs anymore. Feeling his throat is a little dry, he -with much difficulty- gets on his feet. His legs ache as an odd, numbing feeling spreads across his limbs. He stretches and squats, making sure his blood flow is back to normal. When the tingling has passed, Coulson exits his office and heads towards the kitchen. Until… he sees a dim light originating from Skye’s bunk. It can’t be… no.. she’s not here, is she? 

With his interest awakened, he slowly walks towards her bunk. A bawled fist is raised and pressed against the glass. Should he knock? Does he even want to know? He might not like the answer. He swallows hard, working up the courage before sliding the door open with one swift motion. There, in front of him, is a level 1 agent seated on her bed with legs crossed and a cookie barely touching her lips. She looks at him with wide eyes, perplexed. 

“Eh”, she manages to say, “want a cookie?”. She proceeds to retrieve the one from her lips and offers him that one, holding it straight up in his face. He exhales loudly, eyes fixated on her fingers before they follow a trail back to her eyes. 

He blinks a few times and attempts to steady his breathing as he draws sharp breaths. “What are you doing here?”, he asks her, his tone of voice clearly giving away the fact he’s pissed. And confused. And hurt. At her. For being here, on the bus. Why? Why is she here? Why isn’t she on vacation yet? 

“So, I take it that’s a no on the cookie? Well, more for me”, she says cheekily, ignoring his question and not even giving his current, albeit dangerous, emotion much thought. She then takes a bite out of the tasty goodness. 

“Skye”

She continues to enjoy her cookie, taking slow bites to savour the moment, to experience its taste to the fullest, whilst completely ignoring him the whole time. This, in return, only seems to piss him off even more. 

“Skye..”, his voice sounds more desperate this time, “You’ve disobeyed an order”. She still doesn’t seem fazed. Heck, she doesn’t even seem to listen. 

All of the sudden, he leans in, grabs her by the arms, drags her along with him out of her bunk, and pushes her up against the wall with his hands still having a tight grip on her, “Enough with pushing my buttons! I’m not in the mood and you’re not supposed to be here”. 

“Ouch…”, she says, reminding him while gesturing towards the tight grip and he immediately, in a heartbeat, loosens his grip on her, realising what he’s doing, realising he just snapped. At her, out of all people. 

“I’m sorry”, he whispers huskily, a trembling hand covering his mouth, his voice weak as he takes a step away from her, “I’m so sorry”. This is it. The charade finally comes to an end. The mask has fallen off. This is the end of the lies, of the withholding. And he knows he messed up. A worrying hand goes through his hair. He looks tired and filled with sorrow. It makes him look much older. There are no cute dimples. There is no sweet smile. His eyes are not twinkling with that juvenile spark. She’s not used to seeing him like this - worried, stressed, broken. There were some brief moments in the past, but she never saw it up close. And it was never so… bare, so open, and so intimate, just between the two of them. 

“It’s okay”, she says, soothing, as she approaches him. She repeats it over and over, telling him it’s okay, that he’s not alone, that she’s there. It starts with a single touch on his arm. Her hand creeps up, her thumb tracing comfortable circles at that sensitive spot in his neck. He gives in, leans a little closer while closing his eyes at the touch. Her arms eventually find their way around his neck and she pulls him closer to her and into an embrace. He allows her, placing his head in the crook of her neck. “I’m sorry”, he breaths against her skin with tears slowly rolling down his cheeks, “I’m so scared”.

“I had to do it. You wouldn’t talk to me”

“I know”, he pauses and snuggles closer to her, his breath tickling her skin as his own arms wrap around her waist, “thank you”. 

“I’ve got to hand it to you, though. You have more strength in you than I gave you credit for”, he chuckles at first and she can just feel him tremble against her. It’s a good feeling. “With your age and all”. His face immediately pops up, the trembling stops and he stares her straight in the eye, “What’s that supposed to mean?”. 

“Well, you’re practically ancient now”

He glares at her with narrowed eyes, sulking, before burying his head again in that delicate, warm spot. He inhales deeply, taking in her sweet scent. 

“Happy birthday, Coulson”

He mumbles something against her skin, something inaudible, so she asks him to repeat himself. He looks up, eyes careful but beyond doubt as he watches her, “Call me Phil”. 

“Okay”, she beams, “Happy birthday, Phil”. 

“Hmmm”, he mumbles against her flesh, “I like the way you say it”

She laughs, which puts a genuine smile on his face, “Really? Are you sure about that, Phil? It’s not too annoying? I might use it all the time now”. 

“Hmm.. yes, please”, he responds absentmindedly. He’s begun placing butterfly kisses on her neck, nipping, indulging himself. Finally. He follows a trail upwards, towards her ear, and starts to tease her there. He nibbles, licks. He can hear the sweet little moans escaping her throat and it’s already driving him wild. It urges him to go on. He kisses the sensitive spot behind her ear. He can practically feel the Goose Bumps on her skin as he attacks her flesh. 

“Coulson”, she warns him. 

“Phil”, he corrects her between kisses. His hands have found a way to her hips. His grasp is strong, and before she knows it, she’s up against the wall again with his body pressed against hers. She can feel his hands slip downwards, to her ass. Each cup a cheek and he pushes her up, up against his body, up against his growing member. She responds, buckling her hips against his, pleading, “Phil”.

“Skye”, he breaths, needing, desperate. A leg begins to press against her sensitive spot, right at the same time when he starts to suck on her jugular. A primal groan escapes and she starts to rock her hips again, causing friction at all the right places. Her hand is on the back of his head, fingers entangling the short brown hair as she guides his hot, expertise mouth downwards. 

“Be patient”, he tells her sternum before going back up. He leaves her neck and smirks wickedly at her. He stops her from moving. She cocks her head lightly at him. “What are you- Whaah!”, she yelps. He has picked her up and wraps her legs around his waist. His hips start to grind against hers once more. It’s clumsy and messy at first. Whereas one goes fast, the other wants to slow down. The need to get off prevents them from gaining a steady rhythm together, until Coulson grabs ahold of her hips once more and guides her. Soon, the two are in perfect unison in a slow but steady pace. His hands rest on her ass, using the fabric to his advantage. 

“Funny”, she breaths between small moans (even though she attempts -in vain- to hold them all in. She’s not going to show him just yet what kind of effect he has on her. She’s not giving in that just yet), “Never pigged you for an ass man”. 

“I appreciate every feature on a woman, ass, breasts…”, he replies out of breath, face against hers while he continuous his previous heading, suckling nicely onto her jugular. 

Letting out a somewhat silent groan, “So, I’m just ass and breasts to you?”

He grimaces, “No”. He then looks into her beautiful brown pools. He sees the worry in them, the vulnerability. He stops grinding straightaway, realising the seriousness and cups her face in both his hands, “You’re not”. A thumb caresses her lips, eventually parting them before he leans in and covers her mouth with his. He kisses her, lazily, teasingly, but passionately nonetheless. She reaches behind her to slide the door open. 

“In”, she orders when they both gasp for air, gesturing towards her bunk. 

“Maybe you should become the Director”, he teases her but complies nevertheless. He carries her inside the bunk, towards the bed and lays her down. He hovers above her, his body on top of hers. 

“Maybe I should”, a smug smile appears on her features, causing him to grin back at her, “I would be a great director”. His hands start to roam her body, playfully touching her ever so slightly. “You would”, he smiles approvingly before a mischievous twinkle appears. He leans in, whispering against her ear, his hot breath tickling her, “And I wouldn’t mind you being on top either”. 

His hands stop near hers. He takes a hold of hers, entwining their fingers while he feels how her cheek heat up against his. She swallows hard. He’s about to pin them above her head, but one of her hands escapes. He feels her warm touch on his knee and it slowly inches upwards, all the way towards his inner thigh. It remains there, resting. The touch begs him to close his eyes, and he gives in, chewing onto his lower lip as he inhales deeply. 

“You can still say stop”, she whispers, “it’s not too late”. 

“I don’t want to”, he confides honestly in her and pauses, wondering with eyes still closed, “Unless you want to?”

When she doesn’t respond verbally, he immediately opens his eyes. He hisses after realising her hand has travelled upwards even more and has started to caress the obvious restrained tent in his pants. They lock gazes, curios eyes and an innocent look regard him, and he can feel her hand moving up, and up, until it alone -quite skilfully- loosens his belt, undoes his zipper, and slips inside his pants, underneath his briefs. She takes a hold of him and he gasps at the sudden, intimate touch. 

“Fuck”, she hears her director say for the first time ever. 

“Well”, she says, tilting her head while leaning in. She gives him a light peck, “Just be patient, Sir. We’ll get to that when we’re ready”. He chuckles and she motions him to sit back. He does so, their hands break free from holding one another. Once they’re both comfortably settled again, her other hand starts to move up and down his length. 

“Fuck”, he utters under his breath, sitting back against the wall with eyes rolling into the back of his head, “This feels so good”. But the delight doesn’t last long, because she releases her grip on him and suddenly yanks his button-up out of his pants. He watches her carefully, a little too cautiously. He watches how she undoes the last couple of buttons on the bottom. Eyes pierce her as a lump starts to form in his throat, but he relaxes when she stops - right on time as well, he tells himself. The rising fear within him subdues when her hands touch the few inches of visible flesh, tracing his happy trail before they rest on his thighs. She looks at him, sensual smirk present, as though asking for his permission. 

“Take it off”, he orders her, “take it all off”. Within a heartbeat (and with a little bit of his assistance), she takes his pants off. His grey briefs underneath are revealed and Coulson releases a sigh of relief. Almost free. She licks her lips before hooking her fingers in the hem of his shorts. Briefly, she looks up, as if to reassure herself, before she pulls it down and his member springs free in her face. 

She’s silent and remains so, so he jokes, “See something you like?”

“I thought your new policy involved no more secrets? I would’ve loved to hear about this one. I would’ve already jumped your bones the second you slid down in the back of the van”

“That hurts my feelings. What am I to you? Another piece of meat?”

Her hand finds his companion again, “I’m sorry. So, so sorry”. She starts to stroke him gently, with long, slow caresses. Feeling himself become more rigid with each passing stroke, he surrenders to her and the series of moans escaping his throat, “You’re forgiven”. He’s at her mercy now. Seeing this as a good sign, she increases the pace as her other hand starts to massage his testicles. Pre-cum appears from his slit and starts to dribble down his hard, aching cock. Using this as a lubricant, she bends forwards and traces the sturdy tip with her tongue. A load groan coming from the back of his throat is heard. This encourages her to take the glans in her mouth. She hears him gasp, uttering several swear words under his breath as he clasps the bed sheet tightly. 

“Mother of…!”

She starts to move up and down his shaft, leisurely, while her hands assist her - one still firmly around his cock and the other plays with his ball sack. His breathing intensiefs, becoming unstable as he’s unable to control it anymore. He’s withering underneath her touch, he’s losing it, all the while he’s telling her he’s close. He can feel himself approaching the point of no return. He’s about to shoot his load all the way down her throat, but right before he’s about to hit that sweet, blissful spot, she releases him and sits back. It takes him a moment to recover and catch his breath. But when he does, his interest is piqued and he watches her intensively as he tries to analyse her next move. So close. He was so close. His cock is now dripping generously with pre-cum, aching to be touched once more, to meet his sweet release. But he’s never sure with Skye. That’s one of the reasons why he adores her so much. First, she hastily takes her pants off, which ends up displaying her black panties. She then starts taking her top off, bit by bit, teasing him. He groans from frustration. Until… the lacy, black bra is out in the open. 

“Oh”, he manages to verbalise in awe, even though he’s too busy staring at her, his eyes going up and down her body, particularly her breasts. He seems unable to avert his eyes. She flicks a finger against the glans of his penis, which seems to dehypnotise him, “Ouch!”. She gives him a look before pulling him closer to her by tugging on his tie.

“Can’t be that long ago”, she murmurs. Her lips cover his, tracing his mouth with her tongue. 

“Too long”.

It certainly doesn’t take long before he gives in and grants her access. Her tongue enters, exploring, and finds his soon. He can taste himself on her. They start to duel fiercely with one another, letting their pent-up sexual frustration loose. With Coulson now being distracted, she gradually starts to unbutton the rest of the buttons on his shirt. She then stops with a few left to trace the still shielded scar. He flinches, stopping abruptly. He pulls away and the previous fear rushes back to the surface. A look of hurt mixed with anger appears. As if to say, how could you? 

“Skye”, he pleads, but it sounds weak, unlike him. 

“It’s okay”, she says softly, leaning in to kiss him. But she doesn’t just kiss him on the mouth, no. This time, she kisses him on the scar as well, on the one thing that has pained him for so long. He exhales loudly, hurt, and closes his eyes. It stings at first, the initial contact, but she places several butterfly kisses on and around the tissue, gently, carefully, so that he’ll get used to it. 

“It’s okay”, she repeats when she undoes the remainder of the buttons, revealing his bare chest to her. He watches her, her response, but there’s nothing there. Not what he’s expecting, anyways. She’s not repulsed or disgusted. Instead, her fingers curiously touch his flesh, feeling how his muscles flinch at her touch as her expression is one of adoration. She undresses him further, removing the shirt from his shoulders, sliding it down his arms and hands. And he allows her, because he trusts her. 

“Thank you”

A warm, genuine smile appears. She takes a hold of his hands and places them on her back. She winks at him, ushering him, “Less talking, more undressing”. 

“Oh, I like that”

A snap is heard as he unhooks her bra. It joins the rest of the clothing somewhere in the corner and she lies down. He bends forwards, placing his mouth against her naked flesh. He follows a path upwards, from her knee to her thigh, while planting each kiss with most care and affection. He stops at her center and kisses her through her damp undies.

“God, you’re wet”, the restraint in his voice is heard. A few wet kisses are placed on her areola before his mouth covers one of her nipples. The other is pinched between an index finger and thumb. He starts to circle it with his tongue, playing, before eagerly sucking on it. Skye whimpers in response while her hips start to buckle again. 

“I can’t take it much longer…”, her fingers interlaces with his hair again, “I’ve been patient, haven’t I?”

“Yes”, he whispers against the sensitive bud before unleashing his wrath once more. The hand jerks him towards her, his mouth releasing her with a pop to meet her eyes, “I need you inside of me. Now. Enough teasing”.

Her panties come off rather easily, even as his hands trail down and up her smooth legs, “Then tell me what you want”. 

“Coulson…!”, she lets out a exasperated sigh. A hand is on her stomach, slipping down. 

“Phil”

“Phil…!!”

“Tell me what you want”, he says again and a finger slips inside her folds, “Do you want me? Do you want me inside of you?”

Firmly closing her eyes to focus herself on him while his finger starts to pump in and out of her, “Yes, oh god, yes. I want your big, thick cock inside of me”

“And then what? What do you want then?”, he asks, kissing her jaw. 

“For you to fuck me hard and senseless.. aah!”, a second finger plunges in, accompanying the first. She flusters, clawing the sheets. 

“So, so wet”

“For you”

“You’re this hot and bothered for me?”

“Yes! And because of you as well!”

“Are you ready for me and my stiff cock?”

“Yes!”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Phil!”, she groans out loud. With that, both fingers disappear, leaving her empty. Sighing disappointedly, she watches him sit back. His cock excitedly bobs up and down in the process. 

“I meant it when I said I didn’t mind you on top”, he gestures her to come to him. She approaches him on all fours and straddles his lap.

“Well, well. Look at you, Mr. Director, who’s finally comfortable with giving someone else full control”

He says nothing but simply stares adorably at her, willing to let her live that lie. “I know I won’t be in full control”, she tells him, rolling her eyes at him. He grabs a hold of her hips and positions her right above his dick, its tip barely touching her folds. The thought alone already seems to be putting him on edge, with the tip glistening richly. He looks up, eyes burning with lust, “You better hurry up. I’m not sure how much longer I can wait”. She smirks seductively before taking the head slowly in, which earns her a growl as his handsome blue eyes already roll back, “Fucccckk”. 

“Love how primal you can get”, she says, moments before sliding down his whole length, taking him fully in. Both cry out in pleasure while adjusting to the size of one another. While his grip on her hips tightens, she gradually starts to move up and down. She presses her body against his, wrapping her arms around his neck and attacks his mouth. He eagerly indulges her and kisses her passionately back, wanting, needing, his tongue already selfishly seeking entrance. A loving hand goes through her long, flowing brown hair and pushes her closer to him. She moans when he bites into her lower lip and pulls down. Her lips fervently fight back, her tongue ready to battle and seeking dominance while they pick up the pace together, her hips trusting against his with each stroke, pleasure steadily building up within. 

They soon break apart to catch some air. “I’m not going to last long”, he breathes. She nuzzles his neck, snuggling as she clings to him. Somehow, she can get used to this. It feels safe. Almost perfect. “Me neither”. In fact, it’s Skye who’s the first one to come. Her build up eventually hits her like waves crashing against the rocks. So forceful. The heavenly bliss sates her as she shouts out his name, his first name, as loudly as she can. Her inner walls contract around his member, tight, and it sends him over the edge as well, bursting his hot seed into her with the triggering of his ejaculation. Unlike Skye, he doesn’t scream. He whispers, without much thinking and self-control, “I love you”, into her ear. 

Coming down from their high, Skye attempts (for a split second) to steady her breathing. Gasping for air, she quickly gives up but remains seated in his lap. Her body is still pressed against his. His arms are around her body, pulling her into an embrace her. His chest is starting to rise and fall down slowly once again, which helps her in catching her breath as well. 

“What did you just say?”

“Nothing”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you said something significant just now, Director”

A silence between the two occurs, before Coulson finally finds the courage within. “Will you come to Boston with me? Meet my parents?”, he asks her with confidence but he doesn’t dare to look her in the eye, doesn’t dare to meet her gaze. It’s such an intimate, sweet, shy gesture on his part. 

“Yes, I’d love that”

He smiles, genuinely, “Happy holidays, Skye”. 

She smiles lovingly back at him and in that moment, he can’t imagine spending time without her, being without her and going through all this by himself, “Happy birthday, Phil”.

**Author's Note:**

> IfyougototheWikiapageyoullfindoutthatCoulsonsparentshavepassedawayandhavebeensoforquitesometimenow.


End file.
